The Outlaws
by keepingitclassy
Summary: They call us terrorists. Personally, we prefer the term "freedom fighters." Ten years after the demise of Apocalypse, the government's choke-hold on mutant rights is being challenged more than ever. A covert group of vigilantes seeks to win freedom for mutants through subversive, non-violent tactics. All that might soon change, however, with the rise of a new villain. An SYOC.
1. Prologue

They call us terrorists. Personally, we prefer the term "freedom fighters."

Ten years after the events that lead to the release and subsequent demise of Apocalypse, the government's chokehold on mutant rights is being challenged more than ever. A covert group of vigilantes, styling themselves "the Outlaws," seeks to win freedom for mutants through subversive, non-violent tactics. However, when they're challenged by the Friends of Humanity, and a powerful villain bent on mutant superiority, all that might just change.

The Outlaws

"Senator Kelly?" At the sound of his name being called, Robert Kelly paused, glancing back over his shoulder with twinges of disdain. This close to Election Day, he was becoming less and less tolerant of interruptions, particularly when he was on his way to a meeting with his campaign manager.

"Yes?" he responded, just barely managing to keep the edge out of his voice; it had been a rough morning. The picket-line outside of his campaign office was becoming harder for the regular police to manage—they would have to call in the SWAT team soon, or the Mutant Response Division. He wasn't entirely sure why they hadn't done so already, but at least his own team was on duty, guarding the building from the high probability of a mutant attack. So far, the worst he'd suffered was one of them throwing a full cup of coffee at him—it had missed, but the foam had burst against the pavement, splattering his shoes and the legs of his slacks with dark liquid. Good thing he'd worn black today.

Looking flustered, the young woman who had called his name hurried up, struggling with a briefcase and something shiny hung around her neck. She was dressed in a light grey suit-jacket with matching knee-length skirt, and a white button-up blouse underneath, her dark hair hanging down to her shoulders. She looked up at him with eager grey eyes, and said "So sorry to bother you, sir, but I'm with the Bayville Sun," she held up the press card dangling on a cord, "We're doing a piece on your campaign, and I was hoping—,"

"I'm sorry, Miss…?" he interrupted, holding up a hand to forestall her.

"Keen. Diana Keen," she said, holding out her hand to shake his. He took it, gave it a brief shake, and then stepped back.

"I'm sorry, Miss Keen, but I'm on my way to a meeting. If you want to speak with my secretary she can set up an interview, or you can attend my gala tomorrow." With that, he turned to continue down the hall to his office.

Determined, the young reporter hurried after. "But, you see, sir, we were hoping to do a piece on your presidential campaign, and how you came to be such a rising star on the political landscape. I mean, just a few years ago you were a high school principal, and well, Bayville is where you got your star—,"

"Yes, yes, I understand all that," Kelly interjected as he reached the desk where his secretary, Rebecca, was typing away at her computer. "Rebecca, this is Diana Keen. Find her a free space on my schedule for an interview."

"Yes, senator," the girl responded without looking up.

"Is Donovan here?"

"Yes, he's waiting in your office."

"Good. No interruptions then, unless the building is on fire."

"Yes, senator." The girl was like a robot, but at least she was efficient.

"Oh, and one more thing," he said, circling around her desk. He leaned in to conspiratorially whisper in her ear, "Check the employment records of the Bayville Sun."

"I'll tell your wife you'll be late, then," Rebecca responded out loud, so as not to arouse suspicion. Yes, she certainly was efficient.

"Thank you. Good day, Miss Keen," he said with a nod, before sweeping into his office and shutting the door.

"Uh, you too senator," Diana called after him, a bit too late.

"If you could have a seat, Miss Keen," the secretary said, "I'll be with you in just a moment."

"Oh, actually, could you tell me where the restroom is, first? I just need to freshen up."

"Down the hall, to the left," was Rebecca's stoic reply. Diana nodded her thanks, and disappeared down the hallway. She noted with some disgust that the walls were lined with framed photos and quotes of and made by Senator Kelly. _Together, human-kind must strive to overcome these dark times_, one read. She had to fight the urge to take it back to his office and smash it over his thick head. _Violence doesn't solve anything, remember?, _she thought with a smirk.

The bathroom was tucked into a smaller side hallway along with a janitor's closet and a water fountain. Once inside, she locked the door behind her, and hurried over to the sink. "Did you get all that, Eye-Shot?" she whispered into the microphone hidden under her hair.

"_Loud and clear. Better hurry up, though. I upped the volume when he was whispering to the secretary; he was asking her to check employment records for the Sun."_

"Well shit," she muttered, adjusting her earpiece. It would only take a few minutes for Kelly's secretary to figure out she was a fraud, then. _Just focus_, she thought, _you can be quick_. Breathing deeply, she gripped the edge of the sink, closed her eyes, and "left" her body. The first time she'd done this had been so jarring, she had had trouble finding her way back. She'd panicked, but the mind and the body are like opposite ends of a magnet—her consciousness had been sucked right back in. Needless to say, she hadn't tried doing anything like that again for months.

Today was different, though. Now she knew what she was doing. With her eyes shut, she concentrated, picturing the space around her and moving toward it. There was a rushing in her ears, and then she was floating, unrestricted. Once she was free of the cage of her body, she could "see" the minds of everyone around her. The world lit up with the glowing pinpoints of minds—there were hundreds, even thousands, but she was only interested in one of them.

In this transient state she physically useless, despite her ability to see the world unfettered by her comparatively clumsy body. She couldn't hear anything that wasn't happening within a few feet of her physical body, and visually, the world was at best, muddled. Floating in a sea of elevated consciousness, she was really nothing more than a ghost—invisible, and intangible, and like a ghost, able to possess the minds of the living.

Well, _some_ minds. Humans, so far, proved to be too strong of will for her to just invade, even when she had a willing host. During her training she had gotten better at leaving her own body, but possessing the minds of her friends was difficult, and possessing the mind of somebody unwilling was nigh impossible.

That was why it was a good thing Senator Kelly had a fish tank in his office. Eye-Shot had noticed it while they were scouting the building, making her the prime candidate for infiltration. All the same, she would have preferred if she could have stayed outside, and projected herself from a safe distance, but her range was limited. There were no good places to hide near the building, and parking was prohibited, especially for suspicious, unmarked vans like the one Calvin drove.

It was difficult to judge space and distance in this form, but she knew the lone mind flickering over the vague outline of a desk and computer was Rebecca's, and the two behind her were Kelly and his campaign manager. She knew all too well that the secretary was hunting for information on her alias—Keen was her codename, and Diana had been a friend of hers in grade school. From a great distance away, she could hear Eye-Shot urging her to hurry. _If you hadn't insisted that I actually talk to Kelly, none of them would know I was here! _It was easier for her to identify the mind of somebody she had met before, though. Kelly's mind shone like a beacon of arrogance and douchebaggery, pacing back and forth in the foggy dimensions of his office.

The minds of his fish were another thing. Small, but still bright, flicking around before her. She chose the brightest—what Calvin swore was a lion fish—and plunged forward into its mind.

Instantly, the world became dense, shimmering, and wet. The fish jerked awkwardly, and if she hadn't spent the last several days practicing possessing the mind of their mascot—a betta fish named Betta Bob—she would have been wholly unprepared. As it was, it was still a bit shocking.

The tank in Kelly's office was built into the wall, not a tiny bowl set on a counter. For a moment the voices she was hearing were so muffled that she feared she wouldn't be able to make out anything they were saying. _Focus, dammit!_ Navigating the fish's body was difficult, but she managed to get him to float closer to the glass. Fish-Vision wasn't exactly ideal, but she could see the big blob that was Kelly pacing back and forth in front of her, and a shorter blob sitting in what she assumed was a chair a few feet away.

"…speech should be a big hit. Your backers there are all too willing to throw money at your campaign."

"Vipers and vultures," Kelly said. Their voices sounded garbled, but at least she could make them out now. "Creed will be there, yes?"

"Of course."

_Creed_, Keen thought with more than a touch of triumph. The only person they could be talking about was Graydon Creed, the founder and leader of the Friends of Humanity, a vile and bigoted anti-mutant group. If she had been in her own body, she would have done a victory dance. This was definitive proof that Kelly was working with them. Not enough to convince the media, but it was more than enough for the Outlaws, and to sow the seeds of doubt amongst his supporters. Hating mutants was fine and dandy, but abducting, torturing, and murdering them was still more or less viewed as "distasteful."

"_Keen, it's been five minutes. You got anything good?"_ Of course there was no way she could respond to Calvin now, but her silence would be as good an answer as any.

"He told me he'd like to go over his plans with you. I can arrange for you to meet with him privately, if you'd like."

"That's fine," Kelly agreed dismissively.

"Any place in particular you would prefer?"

"Someplace private, with no media around."

"That goes without saying."

_Ugh, tell me where,_ Keen thought furiously. If she could find out, they could bug the room beforehand; make sure that _that_ conversation was on tape.

"How about the Leland Hotel? It's out of the way, and it has an underground garage." _Yes!_

"Fine, fine."

"_Keen, that secretary is on the move," _Eye-Shot's voice crackled into her ear from fifty feet away, just as the door to Kelly's office creaked open.

"Sir," Rebecca said, "I just got off the phone with the Bayville Sun. There's no one named Diana Keen working there, not even under a pseudonym." _Shit_.

With a groan, she expelled herself from the mind of the fish, and found herself jackknifing violently back into her own body. Head swimming, she stumbled for the door, struggling to regain her composure as she jerked the door open and tried her best to hurry down the hallway, _away_ from Kelly's office. The longer she was out of her own body, the worse the transition was when she returned. Even a few minutes left her feeling lightheaded and out of sorts. If it hadn't been for all the extra training she'd put in for this, she might have keeled over, but that wasn't an option right now.

"_Keen!"_ Calvin snapped in her ear.

"I'm here, Ca—Eye-Shot."

"_Jesus, give me a heart attack, why don't ya. You gotta hurry, Kelly's on the phone, and I'll bet any amount of money he's putting an APB out on you." _

"I'm trying," she said through gritted teeth, "You try possessing the mind of a damned fish and walking in a straight line after."

She heard him scoff, and mutter something about her being foolhardy. Well, he was safe and cozy in a building across the street, watching Kelly's office through a window, and she was the one risking her ass trying to get some dirt on him. Being reckless sort of came with the job.

"Miss Keen?" Rebecca's voice echoed down the hall, "Miss Keen, Senator Kelly would like to speak with you." _Yeah, I'll bet._ With her mind steadying, Keen picked up the pace, trying to hurry without running. There were other people meandering about the building—working grunts, mostly, but she knew it wouldn't be long before security caught up with her.

"_There's movement, Keen. I can't see you, or Kelly, be careful_." Risking a glance over her shoulder, Keen caught a glimpse of some men in black suits and sunglasses, and swore under her breath before ducking into a nearby staircase. After nearly stumbling and breaking her neck, she ditched the high-heels she'd been made to wear, and broke out into a jog, skipping a step here and there in an attempt to gain ground.

When she emerged from the stairwell on the ground floor, she was relieved to see the hall she was in was deserted. Uncertain of where she was, she picked a direction and rushed past doors marked "storage," seeking an exit.

"_Keen?_"

"I can't find a way out," she hissed, feeling frantic.

"_Where are you, maybe I can_—,"

"I saw her head downstairs," a male voiced echoed down the corridor. With a gasp of fear, she spun, turning in circles, trying to spot a way out—_any_ way out. The nearest thing to her was one of the storage rooms. In an act of sheer desperation, she grabbed the doorknob, feeling victorious when it turned, and slipped quietly into the room, easing the door shut behind her.

"Maybe she's already out of the building," another voice said, muffled now.

"No, there's guards at every door."

"Maybe she can go through walls, like that X-bitch."

"If she could do that, why go through all the trouble of pretending to be a reporter?"

"Fuck if I know. These freaks are crazy and unpredictable."

Keen bit her tongue to keep from screaming. The bastards would get what was coming to them, but now was not the time. She crouched behind the door, waiting for them to pass. Once they were gone, she would bolt out the door and run the other way.

"Let's check in these rooms. Maybe she's hiding—this hall's a dead end, y'know?"

"Right."

_No_. She backed away from the door and looked around the room. It was filled with old office furniture, all covered in a layer of dust. As quickly and quietly as was possible, she found a desk to wedge herself behind, and resigned herself to waiting.

"Eye-Shot," she whispered.

"_Where are you?"_

"I'm hiding in a storage room. They're going to find me."

"_No they're not."_

"Yes, they are. Listen—,"

"_Keen!"_

"_Listen_. Kelly is going to have a meeting before his gala tomorrow with Graydon Creed. They're going to be at—." The door creaked opened, and Keen snapped her mouth shut, hugging her knees to her chest.

"_Where? Keen? Where are they meeting? Keen!"_

"Somebody opened this door recently. Look at the way the dust is flying around." A light clicked on, and she cringed away from it, breathing hard.

"We know you're in here. Come out with your hands up, and no funny business or we'll shoot!" For a moment she considered ignoring them, but she knew it would be futile. They would search the room more thoroughly, and they would find her. Unfolding her legs, she emerged unsteadily from her hiding spot.

"Don't hurt me," she said, trying to sound weak, to lull them into a false sense of security.

"Shut up. Turn around, and get down on your knees," one guard sneered, leveling his gun at her. Shaking, she did as she was told, smiling as she closed her eyes. They weren't going to like what she did next. "We found her," she heard him say into his radio, "need backup down in storage."

"_Keen?"_ Calvin's voice seemed strained.

"They have me," she said.

"What's she saying? Who are you talking too?"

"_Cybele, listen, we're going to get you out of there."_

"No. I won't let them take me, and I won't let you risk it."

"_Cybele, what are you going to do?"_

"Shut her up! She's got a communicator!"

If they took her, they would question her; they would do unimaginable things to her for information and "research." She had heard the horror stories of mutants captured and experimented on, tortured and tormented until they were mere shells of their formers selves. She wouldn't let that happen to her, nor to any of her teammates.

With a deep breath, she prepared to project her consciousness. "Leland—," she managed to whisper before the taser struck her in the back. Electricity coursed through her body, and she collapsed, shaking violently on the floor, but her consciousness was already free of her body, and hurtling toward the two brightly glowing minds in the doorway. When she tried to take them, they resisted, and the pain burned more deeply than any weapon ever could. From very far away she heard somebody screaming as though they were being sliced into pieces by a white-hot knife. It took her a moment to realize that the sound was coming from her own mouth, but it didn't matter. There was nothing she could do now except make sure they didn't take her alive.

X

It's been ten years since the series ended (sob) and nearly as long since I've written Evo fanfiction. I figured it would be fun to write about the state of the world ten years later, and I always enjoyed "submit your original character" stories.

So, if you'd like to submit a character, the form, and additional info on the Outlaws is on my profile. Please submit your app through private message, _not_ as a review. Any apps submitted in review form will be deleted, but you may submit them again through PM.


	2. Chapter 1

Hey all! I'd like to thank everyone who sent in a character app, and everyone who reviewed! I promise I'll try to fit everyone in in some capacity or another, and I apologize if I didn't reply to everyone. I tried to, but knowing me I might have missed a few. Rest assured, I read all the apps I got, and I loved them all! It was hecka hard deciding who to use for what (I still haven't sorted it all out), but I hope you enjoy what I've got so far. :D I'll be introducing more characters in each chapter, so don't worry if you don't see yours right away.

The Outlaws

_Three Weeks Ago_

_"…no one was hurt in the incident, and the family says that's what truly matters. In other news, the attack on Senator Robert Kelly's campaign office in New York is still under investigation. Several mutant-terror organizations have claimed credit for the attack, though the Mutant Response Division has yet to determine the true perpetrators. Several bodies were recovered at the scene, though their identities have yet to be released. Senator Kelly's campaign gala was postponed indefinitely due to the incident, and there's been no word on when it migh—," _

The image on the television screen flickered and disappeared with a click, cutting off the rest of the anchor's report. "Come Robert, don't look so grim," a deep voice said from the corner as Robert Kelly lowered the remote, "This is a good thing."

"A good thing?" Kelly sneered, "Two of my men are dead, and my office was infiltrated by a mutant! How is that a 'good thing?!'"

The man in the corner held up a hand in a calming gesture, and with the other hand reached for a glass half-full of a deep amber liquid. "I'll admit it is unfortunate, but you must realize what an action like this means," he paused to take a sip of his drink—it burned, warming his throat as it went down. "Each time a mutant shows their true colors like this, it is one step closer to us achieving our goals."

"So, what?" Kelly demanded, "We just let them run amok until everyone is so terrified that they have no choice but to pass my legislation?" He would never admit that he'd sometimes considered such things, but he'd never spoken of it to anyone. As much as he wished people would open their eyes to the truth about mutants, it wasn't worth it to risk lives that way.

"Of course not, Robert. But these incidences do serve a purpose. They will help to open peoples' eyes."

Kelly sighed, reaching up to massage his temples with an unsteady hand. This campaign was really starting to get to him, and not solely because of the attack on his office several days beforehand. The interviews, the secret meetings with Graydon, the petitioners, the picketers—he was half-regretting his run for the White House, but it was too late to turn back now.

"I suppose you're right," he relented with a heavy sigh. They had had to postpone their meeting as well as his gala, and he had also made sure to change the venue. Who knew what that mutant might have passed on before she…did whatever it was she had done. He had seen the bodies for himself. Their heads—it was safe to say he wouldn't soon forget them. Just to be safe, he had ordered that the Leland Hotel be monitored for mutant activity—so far they had heard nothing back, but that did not mean the terrorists weren't also watching the place. As though he would be stupid enough to set foot there after what had happened.

Creed smiled, and Kelly had to look away. Sometimes he wondered if their arrangement had truly been a good idea. The Friends of Humanity were close to being officially recognized as a hate group. If the public found out about his allegiance with them…

"On to business, then, Robert. I'd like to request a place on your regular staff for several of my people—,"

"I already have Donovan running my campaign, Creed."

"Yes, yes, but you clearly need more people trained to handle mutants. I suggest asking for assistance from the MRD as well, to replace the men you lost. You would do well to keep these people close to you at all times. No more of this 'I don't want to appear afraid,' business. You need to appear well-prepared. Give these mutants reason to pause." Kelly nodded, though he turned his back to Creed so as not to reveal the dark look on his face. If Creed thought to surround him with his people, to control his entire campaign and his—hopefully—future presidency, he was sorely mistaken. _I'm not a puppet_, he thought fiercely.

"As you say," was all he said.

"Good. If you had had these people on hand the public might not have found out about this attack in the first place. We would have the body of that mutant in hand, and we might have discovered its identity already."

"The police tell me they have a few leads to chase down. They've released a composite sketch, and—," he paused, frowning as the lights flickered overhead.

"I told you this place was second-rate," Creed said dryly.

"That as may be, it's a lot less public than some places you've had us meet. No more fancy hotels or back rooms at restaurants."

"Cloak and dagger, then?" Creed smirked, "You'll have us meeting in dark alleys and under bridges soon, Robert." The lights flickered again, and the smirk died on his lips as the light swelled, growing brighter than any light bulb had the right to. Then, with a hiss and a crack, every light in the room imploded.

"Shit," Kelly swore. Creed was on his feet, reaching for a weapon, but the room was still. "Was…was that a mutant?"

Creed was silent for a moment, hand on something inside his coat, listening. "Power surge, perhaps? Armando!" The door opened, and a young man in a suit stepped through, squinting into the dark. Outside in the hall, the lights appeared to be functioning perfectly.

"Sir? What happened to the lights?" Creed opened his mouth as if to respond, but what came out instead was a creaking, high-pitched noise, a screeching that grew in intensity until Kelly thought he could feel it vibrating down to his very core. Eyes bulging, Creed jerked unnaturally, the inhuman noise coming from his throat halting abruptly as he slumped to the ground. "Sir!" the young guard shouted, running to his prone form.

Kelly felt something touch his back and jumped before he realized it was the wall. He hadn't noticed that he'd been slowly backing away. "Is he…?" he asked unsteadily, swallowing in an effort to wet his suddenly dry mouth.

"He's alive," the guard said, raising his hand to his ear, "We need an ambulance, Conrad…don't ask why, just do it!"

"What the hell was that?" Kelly demanded, not expecting an answer. What happened next gave him all the answer he would ever need. The television flickered back on, making both himself and the guard jump.

"_This just in, one of the bodies recovered from Senator Robert Kelly's offices during the alleged mutant attack on Thursday has been identified as Cybele Waters, a former student and resident of Boston. We are awaiting further information, but we have been able to ascertain that Waters was a member of a formerly peaceful mutant right's group. Stay tuned in for more information." _

Shaking, Kelly reached for the remote and switched off the television once more. He found he was unable to move again until the medics arrived to revive Creed.

X

_Current Day_

The night was warm and quiet. August was nearly at an end, and soon the nights would be long and cold, but for now Lucina Grove decided she would enjoy the weather, and keep the windows of Calvin's van rolled down. A small breeze was stirring, teasing the tendrils of her deep navy hair. Against her better judgment, she leaned back, listening to the sounds of the night with her eyes closed. She was supposed to be keeping watch, but at this point she was starting to feel as though this whole thing was an exercise in futility.

On the street, cars still occasionally whizzed by, but it was getting late and traffic was dying down. Across the way was the Leland Hotel—"Leland" had been the last word uttered by Cybele, and they had worked out that this was the closest place to where Kelly's gala was supposed to have been thrown. That, of course, had been canceled, and had yet to be rescheduled. The only satisfaction any of them could take from Cybele's death was that they had Kelly running scared.

A sharp pang of loss—still fresh after only three weeks—greeted thoughts of Cybele. _We shouldn't have made her go_, she thought for the thousandth time. Though her death still haunted them all, the incident at Kelly's offices felt like it had occurred a long time ago, like it had happened to a totally different group of people. Had they really been so stupid as to think that infiltrating his office would be a simple matter? That group of children, the one that had planned to spy on Kelly, they had been playing a dangerous game, and they hadn't even realized it. How naïve they had all been.

Lucina jumped as the driver side door clicked, and swung open—Calvin was back, it seemed. He climbed in, slamming the door shut behind him, and handed her a small paper bag and a bottle of water. "Sorry I was gone so long," he apologized with annoyance, "The guy at Dunkin Donuts recognized me. I had to go all the way down the street to Honey Dew."

"Of course he recognized you," Lucina said with some exasperation, opening the paper bag with a sigh. "We've been on this stakeout for three weeks, Cal."

In lieu of responding, Calvin popped open his energy drink and took a sip. He was going to get sick if he kept drinking that garbage, Lucina knew, but they had had that argument before, and she didn't want to start sounding like a broken record. Besides, she wasn't much better, eating a cupcake when it was nearly midnight. The bag crinkled as she opened it, and retrieved the slightly smooshed pastry from inside.

Ever since Cybele's death, they had been watching the Leland Hotel, hoping for some sort of lead. It had started to look hopeless after only a few days. Three weeks later, all hope seemed lost, and their presence was starting to seem more pathetic than anything. Kelly and Graydon Creed weren't stupid enough to show their faces here, but they had no other leads, and they were leery of trying to infiltrate his offices again. They would have to have beefed up security there, and there was no way they were going to be able to infiltrate the Friends of Humanity.

In truth, she didn't want to give up any more than anyone else did, but what else could they do? They had to rotate out constantly, so as not to arouse suspicion, and that plan was flagging as well. There were only three of them now—or still four, counting their new addition—they were bound to start drawing attention sooner or later. The only thing keeping their names and faces out of the media was the fact that the government was suppressing the information.

Or at least that's what Jay said, and Lucina didn't have much cause to doubt him. Jeremy Nichols so far seemed a whiz with a computer—he could find anything, access anything, given enough time. "They don't want people to panic, thinking there's another group of rogue mutants out there," he'd said, "They're using Cy as a scapegoat. I think that they know who you all are, but they don't have enough evidence to come after you."

Lucina felt like there must be more to it, but if there was, she certainly couldn't figure it out. After all, the government certainly hadn't had any problem with hunting mutants down before. With a mutant-friendly president in the White House, and an election coming up, maybe they were trying to appease those who said they were abusing their power. _People like us_, she thought. She couldn't decide if that was still who they were now.

Every day there was some new anti-mutant legislation being announced, and it was taking enormous effort for people who were pro-mutant rights to block it all. It kept her up at night, thinking that any day all of her rights could be stripped away because of something she couldn't control. That, and thoughts of Cy. They had been peaceful protesters before, fighting for mutant rights. With Cybele dead, she didn't think she had any "peaceful resistance," left in her.

"Oh!" she gasped as her cupcake tumbled out of her hand without warning. "Well, there goes my arm," she muttered, frowning as the now semi-solid limb shimmered in the light of a nearby streetlamp.

"You alright?" Calvin asked, regarding her with a worried expression. He'd been more somber these past few weeks, very out of character for a wise-ass like him. She couldn't believe she actually missed him cracking stupid jokes at all the wrong moments.

"Fine," she grumbled, leaning down to retrieve the now dirty cupcake with her solid arm. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she tossed it out the window—it's not littering if it's biodegradable—and sat back with another sigh. "Actually, no," she admitted, "I'm not. Cal, I think we're wasting time."

"Luce—," he tried to say.

"No, listen to me. I know you feel helpless and guilty—I know _I _do—but this isn't accomplishing anything. We need to…," she trailed off, struggling for the right words.

"What else can we do?" Cal demanded, sounding weary and irritable. "Cy said—,"

"Cy said Kelly would be meeting Creed here _three weeks ago_. They're not coming here, Calvin."

For a moment they were both silent, and Lucina wondered if she'd gone too far. Maybe this was just Calvin's way of grieving, but her pride wouldn't just allow her to sit here doing nothing while Kelly was out there scheming with the Friends of Humanity to clap all of mutant-kind in inhibitor collars and lock them away in a dungeon somewhere. She knew Calvin well enough to know that letting him mope here wasn't going to help him grieve—taking action would.

"I know," he finally relented, "I know they aren't. I just thought…,"

"Yeah, I know," she said, reaching over with a now solidified arm and squeezing his shoulder. "Let's go back to the motel. Maybe Jay and Rena have dug up some more info for us."

"Alright," Calvin nodded, reaching down to turn the key in the ignition.

The drive back to the motel was quiet. Being out so late had its advantages—there were hardly any other people around, nobody to see two mutants heading home after a long stakeout. _Home_. The motel was far from the genuine article, but Lucina was loath to think of her real home. More than anything, she was afraid to dwell on what her family might be thinking. They knew she was friends with Cybele Waters, but as far as they knew she was on a special summer trip with the Canondale High lacrosse team. In truth, she had skipped out on the lacrosse trip, much as it had pained her to do so. She didn't like having to lie to her family, but there had been no other way for her to travel with the Outlaws this summer. She was still only seventeen, after all, and her parents didn't yet know about her abilities, nor did they know about her extracurricular activities.

It was a difficult life to balance, with all the secrets she had to keep, but this past year had been one of the best of her life, right up until they lost Cy. Going to protests and rallies with her friends, and more recently, going on actual missions. They had sabotaged a Friends of Humanity rally by having Cybele possess the mind of a bald eagle they had been using as a prop. Syrena later set it free into the wild, and she herself had ruined their equipment by smoking through it and shorting it all out. Other little things, like protest-bombing their picket lines, and helping organize fundraisers and walks—that had been what the Outlaws were about—until they had gotten too ambitious.

Maybe they had been building up to it all along, because when they decided to go after Kelly it seemed like the natural thing to do. The next step in their peaceful fight for freedom. They had thought of themselves more like special detectives than spies, and Cybele had been the best choice. There was no chance of her turning into a puff of smoke, that was for sure. Calvin had volunteered, but his advanced senses couldn't have heard through the thick walls in the campaign building, and Syrena might have become too overtly animalistic if she had tried to use her powers to eavesdrop.

_We should have done more recon. We should have been more cautious. We shouldn't have gone in there at all._ Against her will, she felt the stinging pain of loss come bubbling up her throat, threatening to burst forth in a strangled sob. It took every last shred of will she had to bite it all back, shove it back down. She would cry about it later, after Kelly got what was coming to him. Cybele hadn't gone in there to hurt anyone—not physically anyway. If they hadn't tried to capture her the way they had, it could have gone down differently. They had brought the whole thing on themselves, and now they were blaming Cy, saying she had openly attacked the guards in a sort of kamikaze display of mutant power.

Anger slowly replaced grief, and she managed to keep her body solid this time as well. Yeah, Kelly would get what was coming to him, and Graydon Creed, too.

Calvin's van came to a stop rather suddenly, shaking her out of her reverie as she realized they had arrived back at the motel more quickly than she would have thought. Yawning and stretching, she climbed out of the vehicle, and inhaled the cooling night air. Though she doubted she would get a peaceful night's rest, she was grateful that she'd at least get a chance to close her eyes. Tomorrow would be a new day, and hopefully a busy one.

On the other side of the van, Calvin was just shutting his door. She walked past him, heading for their room, when she saw him pause and stare out across the lot toward the trees. There was a small patch of woods standing nearby the motel—by day it was a scraggly, pathetic stand of trees, but by night it was an imposing forest of stark, towering limbs. Lucina wasn't ashamed to say that it gave her the creeps, especially now that Calvin was staring at with narrowed eyes. "What is it?" she asked, stopping with her hand on the door of their room.

"Nothing," he said after a moment, shaking his head, "I think I'm just over-tired. Let's get some rest." Lucina obliged by opening the door with her key, gasping as she stepped forward into the abnormally frigid room. For a moment she wondered if Rena had cranked up the air conditioning or something, until she remembered their new guest.

Jay sat in a chair in the corner, skinny frame hunched over as he typed quietly away at his laptop. He had come to them a week ago, appearing almost out of nowhere to offer them his services. "I know it's kind of bad timing, but I've been looking for you guys for a while," he'd said awkwardly. Apparently they had been making a name for themselves in the mutant world, and word-of-mouth had led him to decide that he wanted to help them out any way he could. Particularly after he'd heard about the death of Cybele.

It had taken them a few days to reach a decision, but they had felt as though they had little recourse. They certainly needed help, and Jeremy was a fount of information, if a bit closed off. That was perfectly fine with Lucina. Though they hadn't officially declared him "one of us," it still felt too much like he was here to replace Cy.

"You're back," he said, more a statement than a question, though they were a few hours early, "Our turn already?" They had drawn straws to see who would have to take a shift with him, and Syrena had drawn the short straw, much to her chagrin. "We don't even know the man," she'd muttered with a slight Aussie twang. Though she'd been in the States for the better part of a decade, she still had the hint of an accent. Despite her reservations about Jay, she'd done her duty so far—people as loyal as Rena were few and far between.

"No," Cal said, sounding almost despondent, "I think the hotel is a lost cause."

"Ah," Jay responded, looking uncomfortable for a moment before being drawn back to whatever was happening on his computer screen. The light reflected off of his rimless glasses, but didn't give any hint to what he was reading up on now. Lucina frowned—if he had had any information for them, he would have said so. It was one of the only things he was forthright about.

His powers were what made the room so cold. The way he had explained it was that his body absorbed heat as an involuntary function. Rena had said that no matter how high she cranked the heat, it didn't make much of a difference. Even standing next to him on a hot summer day could result in a case of the shivers.

A creaking sound reached her ears from the far side of the room, where a mass of blankets was shifting about on one of the motel beds. Yawning, Syrena emerged from under the motel comforter, auburn hair a mess as she stretched and looked blearily across the room at them. "Time'sit?" she muttered, clutching her blankets more closely. She had never been much of a fan of cold weather. Lucina had been considering trading places with her for their stakeouts, but now it was a moot point.

"Midnight," Cal answered, kicking off his shoes before he collapsed bodily on the bed he and Jay had been trading off sleeping in. Apparently tonight was his turn, though it had turned out that most nights were his turn. Jay had said he didn't want to intrude, and often slept on the floor or in the chair. "You'll freeze to death if we share a bed," he'd said with a wry smirk when Calvin said he didn't give a shit about doing so. Luckily, Luce and Rena didn't have the same problem.

"We're not doing stakeouts anymore," Lucina explained as she copied Calvin's actions, and climbed onto the bed next to Rena. The other girl lifted the comforter and she wrapped the excess bulk of it around her shoulders so that they could share some body heat. It was about forty degrees warmer underneath the blanket, for which she was grateful.

"Why not?" Rena asked, looking surprised.

Lucina shrugged, "It just seems like a dead end. We're going to figure out another way to get to Kelly."

Pursing her lips, Rena hugged the comforter even more closely. "And you have no idea how, right?"

"We'll figure it out," Cal said tiredly.

With a noise of disgust, the Aussie pulled the comforter up over her head and slumped over. Holding back a sigh, Lucina laid back next to her. "I know it sucks, Rena, but there's no way Kelly will risk going somewhere that he might encounter us. He has to know that Cy wasn't alone. This just means he's afraid of us."

"He should be," Rena said from underneath the blanket, "I'll strangle the rat-bag with my bare hands if I ever get the chance." This time her voice was thick, and Luce knew that she was struggling to hold back the same pained sobs that had almost overcome her in the van. They had already cried together, for days after it had first happened. Lucina knew the pain would be with them for a long time—the loss of a friend, of someone who was more like family than anything, wasn't something you just got over.

"Let's try to get some rest, okay?" she said softly, turning on her side. Rena gave no response this time, aside from some quiet sniffling. Luce doubted that she had been truly asleep in the first place.

She closed her eyes, trying to shut out images of Cybele, and Robert Kelly. Her brain was buzzing, but she willed it to cease, to relax. For once it seemed to work, and she felt herself slowly start to doze off. Even if she didn't fully fall asleep, she needed every scrap of rest she could get. It was the only way she'd be alert enough to protect her friends. The only way…

Without realizing it, she must have drifted off completely, because the next thing she knew she was sitting bolt-upright in bed, surrounded by darkness. For a few seconds she sat there, stock still, breathing hard and listening. The light from Jay's laptop was gone, which meant he must have gone to sleep as well. _What woke me up?_

The answer came a moment later when she saw a figure move in front of the large motel window. The blinds were drawn, but they were backlit by the streetlights outside, and the figure was making them crinkle as it pried them apart to peer out into the night. "Cal?" she whispered loudly.

"It's me," he said in a low voice, "I swear to God, I keep hearing something outside."

"Hearing what?" she asked.

Before he could answer, there was a splintering crack, and their motel door burst inward. The scream was passing her lips before she could fully register what was happening—something glinted in the darkness, something metallic and heavy, thudding on the floor where it was thrown. Somebody swore—probably Calvin—and then everything seemed to happen at once.

The lights flickered on, and she saw Rena scrambling wildly at her side, holding the bedside lamp up to see what was going on. Jay came stumbling out of the bathroom, wincing at the bright lights that were now coming from outside as well as in. Somebody had turned on floodlights outside, illuminating the room to the point where they were all blinded by its brilliance. As if that wasn't enough, the smoke bomb that had been tossed into their room chose that moment to go off, rapidly filling the space with thick, white smoke. Coughing, she struggled to free herself from her blankets, but ended up further entangling herself to the point where she fell off the far side, wedging herself between the bed and the wall.

Voices filled the night, shouting, giving orders. Heart pounding, she squirmed, but she was stuck now. She could hear Rena shouting, and heard glass breaking, Calvin swearing again. Somebody screamed—a man—and the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. "Jay!" she shouted, her breath ghosting out in front of her, "Cal! Rena!" She could feel her body beginning to shudder, and she knew what was about to happen. Soundlessly, she began to evaporate, her smoky form rising from the tangle of blankets as she mingled with the choking cloud.

An idea formed as she tried to move through the room, and she condensed herself just enough to take on a human-esque shape, and concentrated on gathering the smoke around her body. _Hold on guys_, she thought, turning slowly, building momentum as she headed for the shattered window. Now a funnel of smoke with her in the center, she poured out into the night, struggling against the breeze as she forced the thick substance out into the darkness. Around her, bodies moved, people in uniforms, and in her smoky form she just managed to make out the letters on the backs of their vests—MRD.

"We got one!" a man shouted, and she felt a cold fury come surging forth as she witnessed them dragging a struggling Syrena out through the busted door.

"Let me go you shits!" she raged, "I'll tear you apart!"

In a whirlwind of smoke, Lucina surged toward the men dragging her friend, and wrapped herself around their heads, choking their mouths and nostrils until they had to drop Rena in order to try and bat her away. Rena was on her feet in an instant, grabbing a piece of splintered wood to rail at them with.

Next out the door came Calvin, eyes watering, coughing as the smoke and bright lights wreaked havoc on his senses. "I can't see!" she heard him cough raggedly to Jeremy, who was right behind him. The chilly young man rushed forward, eyes widened as he took in the scene in the parking lot. There were at least fifty uniformed MRD operatives swarming the lot—they had set up several spotlights that were pointed toward their room in an effort to disorient them. At the moment, nearly every one of the men was pointing some sort of weapon at the small group of four mutants.

Lucina ghosted down to float beside Calvin, watching as the men Rena had been beating scrambled away in a rush. "What do we do now?" she demanded, holding up her piece of wood as if to shield them all.

"I think you guys should stand back," Jeremy said, expression resolute. None of them argued. Lucina joined her friends where they huddled against the side of the motel as he stepped forward.

"Stand down!" somebody shouted over a megaphone, "We have you surrounded! Do not attempt to use any powers, or you will be shot!"

Jeremy paused, as if unsure of himself, and raised his arms as though in surrender. "All of you, come forward slowly, and get down on your kne—!" the man with the megaphone was cut off with a yelp as Jeremy thrust his arms forward. Even in her smoky form, Lucina could feel the way the cold intensified to the point where it would burn. The glass in the spotlights shattered under the blast of cold, plunging them all into darkness as the shockwave spread across the lot. The MRD officers were quick to recover, however. "Get down!" Jeremy shouted, and they complied as the first rounds of automatic fire came streaking their way.

Syrena and Calvin dropped to the ground, glass crunching beneath their bodies as they covered their heads with their arms. Lucina fought not to solidify, feeling bullets whizzing through her and hearing them impact against the motel wall. _I have to do something!,_ she thought fiercely, but what she could do she didn't know.

Then, out of the blue, from overhead came a beacon of light. The gunfire tapered off as the MRD officers peered up curiously at the bright beam and the sound of a rotor chopping loudly in the night. Nobody had noticed it before, but now they all saw it—a massive helicopter hovering in the air above them. Fear twisted through her heart—what were they going to do to them now—but she needn't have worried.

In the back of her mind she felt something tingling, then a voice sounded, full of warmth and compassion: _Attention, Mutant Response Division officers. I need you to lay down your weapons. These children are coming with me._

To her utter amazement, the soldiers complied, moving slowly with dreamy looks on their faces.

_To you young people calling yourselves the Outlaws; we're sending down a rope ladder. I hope you'll decide to come with us._ There was no sense of coercion, but Lucina didn't hesitate. Propelling herself upward, she was the first through the hatch before they even let down their ladder.

Quickly, one by one, her teammates followed. First Rena, then Cal, then Jeremy. Once they were all safely onboard, the ladder was withdrawn and the hatch closed.

The Outlaws found themselves surrounded by several people in uniform, all of which bore a very distinctive trait; a large "X" emblazoned on them in one fashion or another. "That was a close shave," a tall man in a blue and yellow suit remarked, his eyes hidden behind odd red goggles. "You kids alright?"

"Peachy," Cal mumbled, clearly off-put by the whole thing. He was still shaking and rubbing his eyes.

"I'm fine," Jeremy agreed, looking slightly worse for wear.

"I'm not!" Rena proclaimed hysterically, "They put a collar on me!" For the first time, they all noticed the shiny metal band encircling her throat. "Get it off!" she demanded, prying at it ineffectively with her fingers.

"We will," a gruff voice answered, as Calvin wrapped an arm around Rena's shoulders in an effort to comfort her. Lucina turned to see an equally gruff looking man regarding them with narrowed eyes from the cockpit doorway. "Once we get back to the institute."

"What about you?" the man in goggles asked, directing his question at Lucina.

Her voice was slightly echo-y and insubstantial, but she managed to answer, "Oh, I'm alright. I just, um, I didn't shift my clothes with me is all."

"We'll get you something to wear," he said with an understanding smile, "Kitty? Do we have any spare clothes onboard?"

Though Lucina thought she couldn't have been any more surprised tonight than she already was, to her amazement a young woman came walking into the hatch-bay—right through the wall. "I think so. Come with me. There's gotta be a hospital gown or something in the med kit." Lucina complied, drifting after her as she turned back toward where she'd come from. This time she opened the door, though she needn't have bothered. Luce could have followed her through the cracks in the wall in this state.

"I'm sorry we didn't get here sooner," the woman said, combing her fingers through a brunette bob. "And about your friend. If we had known…" she trailed off, though Lucina didn't like to think where she had been going with that statement.

A few minutes later she was triumphantly holding up a plain set of hospital pajamas—a shirt and a pair of shorts—for Lucina to wear. She felt better once she had solidified and pulled the ill-fitting clothing on. "You guys are the X-Men, right?" she inquired as the young woman—Kitty Pryde—handed her a bottle of water.

"That's right!" she replied brightly. _Fan-freaking-tastic_, Luce thought as she took a sip of lukewarm water. They had managed to avoid the X-Men for so long, and now the Outlaws owed them their lives. A thought struck her, and she nearly choked on her water; what if they called her parents? Briefly she worried about how grounded she was going to be, until she remembered that they all had a much bigger problem on their hands. How on Earth were they going to get revenge on Robert Kelly with the damned X-Men breathing down their necks?

X

_Two Weeks Ago_

The Leland Hotel was the fanciest place he'd ever been in. The room he'd rented had been vacant—it was the presidential suite, the most expensive room they had available. Normally not the type of place you'd expect to find a guy who earned minimum wage on a good day, and had to work three different part time jobs to make ends meet. If he had known this was what his life would amount to, he would have taken matters into his own hands a long time ago.

That's why he was here, after all, in this gilded, overpriced hotel room. It wasn't his fault that the credit card company had accepted his application and sent him a shiny new piece of plastic, emblazoned with his name and a thousand dollar spending limit. Most likely they wouldn't be too thrilled when they realized that he wasn't going to be paying them back for this free night of luxury. He had no family for them to transfer his billing to, either.

_Not my problem_, he decided. Credit card companies were always screwing people over. High time somebody returned the favor.

By the time midnight was approaching, he was well and truly drunk off the miniature bottles of liquor from the suite's mini-bar. He'd ordered room service, too—lobster, and steak, and a giant, greasy cheeseburger. He was wasted and overstuffed, and starting to feel sleepy. He figured now was as good a time as any.

From his bag—a small backpack, the only thing he'd brought with him for his one-night stay—he pulled a gun. It was heavier than he'd thought it would be, and fully loaded—he'd considered only using one bullet, but what if he loaded it into the wrong chamber? If he pulled the trigger and nothing happened, he might lose his nerve, and there was no way in hell he could afford to pay back Capital One if he wound up not being able to go through with this.

On the lush pillow of the equally lush bed, he placed a note to anybody who might like to read it. His explanation, his reasoning, was brief. He hadn't signed up for this, living paycheck to paycheck, having anxiety and social awkwardness that he needed medication for that he couldn't afford, being on the brink of losing his apartment, wondering each day if he was going to be laid off—life truly wasn't fair, and as hard as he worked to make it better, everybody seemed to think he was lazy, not working hard enough.

Well, maybe he was proving them right, but it wasn't worth it. He had been alone for so long. He was so tired of it all, and there was no end in sight.

He would do it in the bathroom. It would be easier for the hotel to clean up, he figured, and he didn't want to ruin their pretty room any more than he had to. Staring at himself in the mirror, he wondered if he would be dead instantly, or if he would see his own brains being splattered across the walls. Unnerved by the thought, he reached over and switched the lights out, then shut the door for good measure. Now in total darkness, he couldn't see a thing.

Oddly enough, he felt at peace. He raised the gun and pressed the muzzle to the side of his head. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was having a belly full of actual food instead of ramen noodles and saltines for once, but he wasn't afraid. He was totally at ease.

_Don't do it. _

His hand jerked, and he twisted, looking around the room. Where the hell had that come from?

_It can be better._

"Who said that?!" he demanded, voice cracking.

_Let me in. It can be better. _

"Is…Jesus, is that you?"

_Let me in. _

The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. It was in his head. It was in the room. He had never considered himself the religious sort, but suddenly he found himself reconsidering.

"I…how? How do I…?" he hadn't had that much to drink, he was certain. Just enough to relax him, not enough to make him hallucinate.

_Let me in!_

"Agh!" he screamed, grabbing for his skull as is throbbed sharply—it felt like somebody was driving a knife into his head, like it might just explode anyway, without the aid of any weapons. "Stop!" he cried, falling to the floor. The lights were flickering, or the pain in his head was making him see things. In his agony he thought he saw a figure standing over him, cloaked in darkness, menacing.

**LET ME IN.**

He screamed, one, long, tortuous sound that sent hotel security scrambling to his room. By the time they found him, his head was nothing more than a fractured mess, and the walls were awash with blood.

X

There's the first chapter. Stuff happened and junk (and people keep dying, wtf)! Hope I got everybody's personalities right, and that you all enjoyed it! I edited it like three times, and I'm slightly delirious so my apologies if there are any mistakes. I'm gonna try to do a cover for this over the weekend with the main team on it.


End file.
